Dead as a Tomb
by WhiteKingdomAngel
Summary: Lassiter and Shawn are trapped inside a mausoleum as they wait for back up to come. But Lassiter didn't expect having to take care of a wounded Shawn. Neither did he expect that said fake psychic got hurt saving his life.


**_Disclaimer: I own nothing_**

_Me: Um… Ahh… *breaks down crying*_

_Shawn: Hey what's wrong?_

_Me: *tears pouring* I got writers block! *to mob* PLEASE don't kill me! I'm still writing the next chapter of **"What's a Ten Letter Word for Murder?" **but I. GOT. STUCK! When I write something, it turns completely opposite of what they would say to each other! AGH!!! Curse all Spencer men!!!_

_Henry: *slapping Shawn over the head* What did you do kid?! You made her cry!_

_Shawn: *clenching his head* I didn't do **anything!** Besides! This is **your fault!**_

_Henry: My **fault**?!_

_Shawn: Yeah! If you weren't such a discipline **robot** we wouldn't be **in** this mess!_

_Me: *glaring* **ENOUGH!!! **You two! BACK to your corners!_

_Henry and Shawn: But…!_

_Me: **NOW**!!! *sniffing* *turn to mob* Anyway, I hope you enjoy a couple of one-shots until I figure this out. And does ANYONE know were EriKaBalDeL is? She didn't comment on the last chapter and I'm getting worried. She's usually so prompt to threaten me for the next chapter._

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Dead as a Tomb

As the morning rays shone through the skylights of the mausoleum, one of the two lonely figures started waking up. The first being a tall man with clear Irish features, salt a pepper hair and a gun holster firmly strapped to his back. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he remembered his companion and the events that happened last night. He turned towards the other man worried as he took in his appearance. His chocolate hair was plastered over his forehead by his sweat induce fever, his usual tan face was now showed an unhealthy parlor and as his eyes continued his inspection, he noticed that the makeshift bandaged was once again bloody scarlet. As he muttered a curse, he started thinking were to find something he could use to lower his friend fever but found it difficult to find anything in the devastation they created last night.

He remembered that the mausoleum was well kept. It had its own parking lot and a variety of flowers were planted along the way trail to the entrance. There was a single elegant door that rang a bell when they first came in and as soon as they came inside, the cool breeze of the air conditioner was a nice relieve of the hot North Carolina sun. He had expected the air to smell of death but instead was greeted by clean and fresh air, much like febreeze. But all that had been destroyed last night when they confronted the murderer. He hadn't expected the guy to have a hidden gun and knife on his lab coat and he cursed to himself at his stupidity. He was a _cop_ for petes sakes! He should've known something was off with the guy. But, as usual, his annoying, yet sometimes _insightful_ companion had _"psychically" _solved the case. And worst of all, when the psycho threw the knife at him without me noticing, _he_ was the one to push me out of the way. When he realized what had happened, the murderer had escaped and locked the door, essentially trapping them both inside. Seeing no way out, he called to warn the police department that he had found the murderer and to send an ambulance to their location. But he knew that it would be hours before any help could get here. The mausoleum was way on the outskirts of the town and they were running out of time.

As he kept looking, he remembered the basement. He remembered the smell of alcohol which meant there could be something he could use to help his friend. When he was sure he gotten all that could help, he started climbing back and noticed his hurt companion stirring awake.

"Spencer." He said gently as he nudged his shoulder "Shawn, come on, I need you to stay awake."

"La-ssie?" Shawn said gruffly, his throat parched by his fever, as he tried to stand. But a pair of strong hands stopped him from getting further than an inch from the floor.

"Don't move. You're hurt." Lassiter said irritated as he handed him some water.

"Wh-what happened?" Shawn asked him with glassy eyes and a goofy smile trying to ignore the blazing pain at his side.

"What happened?! I tell you what happened you _idiot!_ You pushed me and took the knife that was meant for me! Why the _hell_ would you _do_ something like that?!" At the end he was practically screaming at the wounded man. He just couldn't understand _why _he did that for him. As he looked at his eyes he shot him a 'you _are _kidding' look.

"Ok, so we're skipping the point were you hug me and thank me for saving your life and get right to the 'what the hell were you thinking' speech part of the program" He said nonchalantly as he saw Lassiter's scowl firmly in place. He sighed loudly but stopped short as pain flared up again. Lassiter was at his side instantly helping him stay still. As their eyes meet, Lassiter was surprised to see such solemn look on his face.

"You're my friend. You were in danger. Why else would I do it?" He was shocked to hear the word friend. He was even more shocked to think of him a friend as well.

The silence between the two was shattered by the sound of the police and hopefully ambulance up the road and Lassiter couldn't help but smile in relief. Shawn was going to be ok. "Well, do you have any idea what the chief is going to do to me when I tell her that I brought her consultant in _mid_-condition?" He said jokingly as he sat next to him and had to suppress a smile when he saw Shawn smiling mischievously.

"Oh, I don't think the chief is going to have a problem. After all, I _did_ save your life!" Lassiter rolled his eyes at him. Shawn was going to hang this over his head for a long time.

The End.


End file.
